


Petals Soaked in Blood

by flitterflutterfly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All Kinds of Magic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Magic, Dark Ginny, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-10 16:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterflutterfly/pseuds/flitterflutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry and Ginny decide to go back in time, they use Kreacher as their willing sacrifice. Except, erasing Kreacher from existence changes more then they thought. Now Harry creates his own Dark Order while maneuvering around Death Eaters, Dumbledore, and a strangely sane Voldemort.</p><p>
  <b>This story is now on permanent hiatus. I may decide to rewrite and repost it at some point--it which case I'll be putting it up on my new and improved ao3 account: http://archiveofourown.org/users/skylarjaye/. Thank you to everyone who supported this story and my old account.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another time travel story because they are crack to me. Also, I wanted to write a darker story. Heed these **warnings:** torture, murder, character death, sadism (HP), and masochism (DM). Harry and Ginny aren't evil, but they definitely aren't nice.

"We could just take a male lover."

Harry shot Ginny a  _look_. She smirked.

"We've talked about this, Gin. Our marriage vows are binding and I'm not in the mood to test if taking a third into our relationship would count as adultery."

"You're no fun."

"I'm rather fond of my magic, you know. I don't want to lose it."

"I'm rather fond of sex."

"I make sex for you good."

"Sure you do, but it's not right that you don't enjoy it."

"Since when have you been concerned for what's right?"

Ginny's honey-brown eyes darkened noticeably in response to the sudden spike of magic in the air. "I shouldn't be taking pleasure at my lord's expense."

Harry dropped the golden boy act that was second nature to him and adopted his true self. He stood from the blood-red armchair that he and Ginny had convinced their family was actually Gryffindor-red and stalked over to where his wife stood by the fireplace. She noticeably shivered as he curled one finger under her chin.

Not for the first time, he wondered if there was a spell or potion he could use to allow him to feel attraction for this beautiful witch in front of him. They'd tried lust potions and even minor love potions—but Harry's magic reacted badly to anything trying to control his will and so they never tried again.

"You do please me, Gin," he murmured. "You are my second and my best friend. My most loyal. I don't mind rewarding you for that when you desire it."

Ginny let out a soft breath. "Perhaps a golem then, my lord?"

Harry nodded slowly. He hadn't considered that before but… "Yes, that could work."

"And," Ginny purred. "If you got too rough with it, it would simply dissolve instead of crying to  _The Prophet_."

Harry smirked much like Ginny had earlier. "And this is why you are my right-hand, dear Ginevra."

"Here I thought it was because you can't afford to create a following in case the harpies that call themselves journalists declare you a new Dark Lord."

"If only they knew."

Ginny laughed. Harry knew she was thinking of the ritual they'd done together last Samhain. He eagerly awaited Yule in just a few weeks. They hadn't yet decided what ritual they'd do for the spirits then, but he knew it would be just as  _glorious._

Harry moved away to the kitchen table. It was a deep mahogany, like most of the furniture in the renovated 12 Grimmauld Place. Molly often complained that the décor was too cold, but Ginny argued back that pine wouldn't match the feel of Grimmauld Place. Of course, then Molly would say they should just find a different house. Sometimes Harry wished he could just tell the nagging woman that both he and Ginny preferred the Dark feel of the old Black home, but that would bring on a slew of questions neither of them were prepared to answer.

 _The Daily Prophet_  sat on the kitchen table. Harry flipped through the first through pages. The information he was looking for was on the second page, halfway down.

"Good news?" Ginny asked.

Kreacher popped in before Harry could answer. "Is Master and Mistress be wanting breakfast?"

"Pancakes, Kreacher," Ginny said, her eyes still on Harry. Kreacher bowed and set about making them.

Harry sighed. "The bloody fools passed it."

Ginny sneered. "The rest of the wizarding world must be laughing at us."

"They should. We're destroying ourself." Harry sat down heavily. "This week, this ridiculous outlawing of blood wards, last week was the restriction of all books talking about the Olde Ways even just in passing. We're destroying our ability to do magic."

"Most of the Dark pureblood families that survived the incarceration after Voldemort's defeat fled the country years ago. The magical creatures are leaving in waves. Hogwarts hasn't had a pureblood student enroll since they passed the New Blood Act."

"Even the smarter halfbloods and muggleborns are going to Beauxbatons," Harry reminded her. "More would, if the Ministry didn't prevent them from getting the information about how low Hogwarts' scores are internationally."

"We could leave," Ginny said. "I know my parents would be upset, but sod them."

"Gin…" Harry sighed. He rolled up the newspaper as Kreacher set the plate of pancakes in front of him along with a steaming mug of coffee. He thanked the house elf absentmindedly. Ginny sat down across from him, neatly cutting into her own breakfast.

"Look, Bill and Fleur live in France so that their kids can go to school without having to be registered as creatures." Ginny scoffed. "Which is doubly ridiculous since Victorie, Dominique, and Louis are only one-sixteenth veela."

"Teddy lives with them too," Harry added. "Since the Ministry refused to allow anyone with even a hint of werewolf in them to attend Hogwarts."

"So it wouldn't be too strange for you to say you want to live near to your godson before he graduates."

Harry groaned. "That's only in a couple years, isn't it? Merlin."

Ginny snorted. "Yes, Harry, you turned thirty-three this year."

"That makes you thirty-two."

"Yes."

"Merlin's balls."

"What?"

"You told your mom we'd start having kids before you turned thirty-five."

Ginny scowled. "I did, didn't I? No wonder she's been bothering me about adding a nursery lately."

Harry chewed slowly for a moment, thinking. He let his real self come to the forefront again as he studied his wife. "I know you don't want children."

Ginny set her silverware down carefully. "You know I'll carry as many children as you want, my lord."

"I don't want any child of mine to grow up in a world where they can't openly practice the Olde Ways. Your magical core is Grey, but mine is Dark. Any child of ours won't be born with a Light core."

"And if they don't learn how to harness that Darkness, it will consume them and twist them into something they're not."

"The highest rates of suicide among the wizarding world are with naturally Light or Dark wizards who for whatever reason don't or can't practice their magic as was designed for them." Harry sighed. "I've long suspected the only reason I willingly walked to my death at the end of Voldemort's wand was because of that."

"It's the reason Remus was depressed his whole life."

"And the reason Sirius was borderline insane."

"Fucking Dumbledore."

Harry huffed. "Indeed. That man hurt so many people for his  _greater good_. Some days I wish I could go back in time just so I could be the one to kill him."

Ginny laughed, but there was something in her eyes.

Harry stared at her evenly. "What is on your mind?"

Ginny knew better than to refuse to answer him, so when she hesitated he was concerned. Instead of saying anything aloud, Ginny pulled down the corner of her robe so that they both could see the black rose tattooed to her right shoulder. The border was inked with a glittering ruby red. She stared at it for a moment.

"Tell me," Harry commanded and Ginny's mark flashed a sudden red in response to his order.

"I'm the only one you've allowed yourself to mark like this," Ginny murmured. "You are my lord. You have been since I was eleven."

"Riddle was your lord when you were eleven," Harry reminded her.

"Tom showed me the true Grey nature of my magic," Ginny agreed. "And if things had been different, I might have followed him, but you won my loyalty by right of combat when you killed him. I don't wish to be his, Harry. I haven't since I was very young."

"Where is this going?"

Ginny met his eyes evenly. "Our wizarding society is destroying itself. By 2050, I doubt there will be any magic left on the British Isles. The magical world as a whole will survive, of course. Only Australia and Canada are following Britain's example on prosecuting Dark magic and the Olde Ways."

"I'm well aware."

"What if there was a way to change that, my lord?"

Harry sat back. "What are you suggesting?"

"There's a ritual. Very Dark, of course. I came across it the other day. I dismissed it at first, but I keep thinking about it." She bit her bottom lip briefly. "It's a time ritual."

"Those are dangerous, Gin."

"I know. But… I think it's doable. We can go back, Harry. We can destroy Dumbledore and help create a truly balanced magical society here."

"What's your real reason for wanting this?" Harry asked evenly. Ginny flinched just slightly. "Neither of us are so attached to Britain that we can't move somewhere else in the world. I've considered creating aliases and joining the Dark society in Russia. We both lost people we care about, but that's war. So tell me, Gin, what are you actually thinking?"

Ginny looked down. "It would dissolve our marriage bond."

Harry let out a startled breath. "Gin."

"I'll do anything for you, my lord," Ginny stated. She looked up again, her eyes flashing. "Your happiness is the most important thing to me. If you wanted me to slaughter my entire family, you know I would do so willingly just to see you honestly pleased. You  _hate_  our marriage."

"I don't hate being married to you, Gin," Harry told her. He was honestly stunned. He hadn't realized she was holding this much inside even ten years after they first took their vows. "If I had to chose a woman to marry, you were and remain my first choice."

"But my family and the Ministry and our stupid society forced you to marry a woman. You would have been happier in a relationship with Ron, for Morgana's sake!"

"I'm not sure I would have," Harry murmured. "Ron is staunchly Light."

"But at least he has a prick."

"Gin."

Ginny settled down, flushing just slightly. "I apologize."

Harry reached forward and lightly touched the mark on Ginny's shoulder. She shivered in response to the zap of magic. He sat back. "We don't have to do this. The golem idea is a good one. It would keep me satisfied."

"It's not the same."

"Listen to me." The reprimand was enough for Ginny to full attend to his words. "The only reason I'm considering this is that it's not fair to you. No, don't speak. You are my most loyal and I am not Voldemort where I command by fear only. You deserve a man who can worship you as you deserve to be."

"And you deserve a man who will kneel at your feet and never want to be anywhere else," Ginny murmured.

Harry wanted to sigh, but a part of him was pleased by his lone follower's devotion. "Perhaps," he settled for. "Tell me how this ritual works."

"We have to do it on the eve of Yule. It's a full moon this year, which is the only reason I think it might actually work. We'd need unicorn blood freely given and vampire ashes taken by force."

"What else?"

"It requires a willing sacrifice," Ginny said. "The sacrifice's existence gets wiped from the timeline."

"That's how it functions, then," Harry said. "It creates an alternate dimension."

"Exactly."

"Who would be the willing sacrifice then?" Harry began, and then scowled as he noticed the look in Ginny's eyes. "No. I refuse. If I'm doing this, you'll be by my side, Gin."

"But my sacrifice would be the easiest. If we go back to before you got your Hogwarts letter, then me not having ever existed won't affect anything big."

"There are others we can have do this that will have equally small impacts," Harry growled. "I am not losing my only loyal follower."

"You'll get more. That's the point."

"I said no, Gin. Don't argue with me."

Ginny pouted, but said nothing more. Kreacher snapped his fingers and their empty dishes disappeared, but the house elf stayed in the room. Harry turned his gaze to him. "Yes, Kreacher?"

"If Master Harry is needing a willing sacrifice, Kreacher be wanting to help."

"What do you mean?"

"Kreacher be willing," the house elf said promptly.

"Perfect!" Ginny said, but Harry shook his head.

"Though I appreciate the sentimentality, Kreacher, we can't erase your presence. Who knows how that would affect the Black family?"

"They be having Wretcher," Kreacher said.

"Who?"

"Wretcher be Kreacher's brother. Old mistress tell us to fight. Only need one house elf, she said, so must have strongest."

"Walburga was insane," Ginny muttered. "It's not like it's a hassle to be bonded to two elves."

"You killed your brother?" Harry asked, no judgment in his voice.

Kreacher nodded, his ears drooping just slightly. "Kreacher was stronger, yes. But if I not there, Wretcher serve family well. He be twin me."

"See, Harry," Ginny said, obviously excited. "It's perfect!"

Harry frowned. He had a bad feeling about this, but it was faint and the majority of him was warming up to the idea. "Are you sure you don't mind, Kreacher?"

"I is sure, Master Harry."

Harry nodded. "Well, seems like I'm out numbered. Ginny, you'll have more luck getting willing unicorn blood. They're too Light to listen to me. Maybe you can get one of your brothers to help you."

Ginny's eyes sparkled and that was enough to let Harry know he was making the right choice. "You won't regret it, Harry."

"I hope not." Harry stood and stretched. "Seems I have to go vampire hunting."

"Have fun."

He let a cruel smirk slide over his face. "You know I plan to."

.Ooo

They did the ritual in Stonehenge. It was one of the most powerful Olde magic ritual circles in the world. The fact that the Ministry had done away with the Muggle repelling charms on it around a century ago remained one of the tragedies of the modern British wizarding world. The fools seemed to think that all the Olde Ways were Dark when in reality the world of magic lived to be in balance and there were just as many Light and Grey rituals as there were Dark ones.

Still, the ritual Harry and Ginny were about to do was definitely Dark in nature. Most rituals requiring sacrifices, willing or not, were.

The necessary runes were already laid out and the magic held within Stonehenge's rocks hummed with power. Ginny walked in a perfect circle just outside the stones, dripping a silver line of unicorn blood. Harry spread the vampire ash inside the circle, making sure it was evenly spaced across the grass. Kreacher stood within the smallest circle of runes, wringing his hands. He wore his best tea towel.

Ginny finished the circle and walked forward. She slowly drew an infinity knot on Kreacher's head with the unicorn blood. Harry took her place a moment later and sprinkled the vampire ash over the house elf. Both of them stepped back and began chanting.

The ancient Gaelic didn't fall easily from Harry's lips, but he and Ginny had both practiced for the past few weeks to get this ritual right. When Harry set about doing something, he put his full self into it. He had no more doubts about going back, because to have doubts at this point would ruin the ritual. Instead, he focused on all the good he could do. At least, good in the sense of saving the magic inside the British Isles. He was sure Dumbles wouldn't agree with his version of the greater good, but Harry hardly cared for the opinion of the man who manipulated him and caused him to attempt assisted suicide.

The power inside Stonehenge surged. Ginny kept chanting as Harry pulled out his long ritual knife and approached Kreacher. His house elf gave him a crooked smile. Harry smiled back and then cut off Kreacher's head with a single slice.

The surroundings outside the ritual circle warped and blurred. The whole word seemed to spin. Harry rejoined the chanting. He met Ginny's eyes and together their voices rose into almost shouts. The spinning grew more and more intense. Harry used the ritual knife to cut a thick slice into his left arm. He handed the knife to Ginny for her to copy him. His blood sank into the earth below. Ginny's joined his a moment later.

The spinning reversed direction. Harry felt the wind inside the circle still and the very air became almost suffocating. He gasped out more ritual words. Ginny struggled more than him. Harry tried to give her some of his magic through her mark, but he found the bond completely gone.

It was working. Harry saw as before his eyes Ginny began to shrink and deage. He felt his own body cringe in on itself. To their right, Kreacher's dead body began to dissolve entirely.

The magic reached its crescendo. Harry and Ginny shouted the last words of the ritual and then in a blinding flash of darkness—they both vanished.

.Ooo

Harry woke to Aunt Petunia rapping on the door to his cupboard. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming—but it had never taken him long to assimilate memories in the morning and in the time it took Petunia to finishing say "Up!" he'd remembered everything.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia!" Harry yelled. He slid off his ragged cot and opened the door. His aunt was already walking up the stairs to go wake his fat lump of a cousin for breakfast. Harry let himself sneer.

He started making breakfast for his family if only because he wasn't yet sure what he wanted to do. He wasn't staying in this ugly house long, that was for sure.

"You better be making a special Christmas breakfast, boy," Vernon said as he wandered into the kitchen with the day's newspaper.

Harry looked at the date on the paper. December 25th, 1990.

It had worked, then. He must have landed in his younger body late last night and slept through it. He wasn't surprised. He still felt magically exhausted from the ritual—though that was also possibly because of how malnourished this ten-year-old body was.

If he wanted to wait, he'd have another six months or so until he got his Hogwarts letter. Harry wasn't even honestly considering it. He would not be going back to Hogwarts. It was one of the things he and Ginny had talked about in the weeks leading up to the ritual. She'd go to Hogwarts if only because she had to, plus it would allow her to carefully recruit people into Harry's Dark Order. Harry, on the other hand, was not going to allow himself to be under Dumbledore's thumb. He wanted to throw a screw in the old man's plans.

It had been years since Harry had lived with the Dursleys, but he still remembered what they expected for Christmas morning. He'd been cooking said breakfast since he was six, after all.

He watched as the three dug into the feast he made. He felt for the anger he expected, but it just wasn't there. He hadn't thought about the Dursleys in so long. He couldn't find it in himself to care about them one way or another. There were certainly others in the world he longed to torture to this day—Dolores Umbridge among them—but the Dursleys weren't worth it. They were frankly too unimportant. They may have made his childhood a hell, but they never beat him. The emotional abuse and neglect was bad enough, of course, but he'd gotten over that mentally before he'd turned twenty.

Harry wondered briefly if the apathy he felt towards his supposed family was healthy. Probably not, he decided, but then he couldn't care enough to be worried about that. He'd known since he was fifteen that he was screwed in the head, in more ways than one.

Regardless, the Dursleys would have to die. It was too risky for them to survive. He was leaving, but he figured it'd be best if the magical world thought he was dead—at least for a little while.

A gas pipe explosion would do. If it were hot enough, the wizarding world would have trouble distinguishing between the bones to know if there were four bodies instead of three. He'd remove all the traces on his body at the same moment, making it seem like he was dead to Dumbledore's tracking instruments.

"Merry Christmas," Harry murmured. The Dursleys all looked at him, varying expressions of disgust and disinterest on their faces.

Harry ignored them, concentrating. He was magically drained at the moment, but he always would be while living at the Dursleys. Luckily, it was Yule day. All he had to do was feel for the ambient magic that was always so bright around the winter solstice and use that.

The kitchen went up in a blinding flash of light.

The sudden fire obliterated the house in minutes. Harry apparated away and watched from down the street as the fire spread slowly to the surrounding houses. The other muggles began to scream. It was late enough that most everyone was awake, so he doubted anyone else would die unless they were too stupid to get out of their house fast.

Harry turned as Mrs. Figg ran out of her house, staring in horror at what once was 4 Privet Drive. He smirked and then apparated away before the old squib could call Dumbledore.

He appeared on the steps of Gringotts. The bank never closed, even on Yule, so he wasn't worried about that. He transfigured his baggy pants into a full robe and his shirt into a cloak with a deep hood. He pulled the hood up and headed inside the bank. There was no one there—not surprising considering the day, so a goblin teller was able to assist him immediately.

"Yule day greetings," Harry said. He grimaced, hating how high-pitched his ten-year-old voice was. "I would like to make an appointment with my estate manager. Today, if he is available."

The goblin nodded, though his eyes were shrewd. "Name?"

"Harry Potter."

The goblin's eyes widened just slightly. "Your estate manager is Roldenbek. I will see if he is available."

"I would be most grateful," Harry said.

The goblin nodded once and left. Harry only had to wait ten minutes before the teller was hurrying back with Harry's estate manager. Harry knew the older goblin in the other time, but he didn't let that show on his face as Roldenbek greeted him and walked him back to a modest-sized office.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Potter, I must be assured of your identity," Roldenbek said. He pushed forward a scroll and a blood quill. "All you have to do is write your name. No ink necessary."

Harry knew blood quills were goblin inventions and quite useful for banking purposes, but he still hated them. Umbridge was definitely going to die. It was exciting that, despite the fact he'll have to start from scratch on nourishing this scrawny body, the only scars he had were his lightning bolt and a couple burn marks from cooking.

The blood quill did its job and in a flash the scroll accepted Harry as the last remaining Potter. Roldenbek rolled it up and set it aside. "Where is your guardian, Mr. Potter?"

"My muggle or magical?" Harry asked, settling back in his chair.

Roldenbek raised a non-existent eyebrow. "Either."

"I wish to be emancipated," Harry said. "My muggle guardians are dead and my magical guardian likely thinks I am as well."

The thing Harry loved about goblins was they honestly didn't give a fuck. As long as the most profitable client wanted them to do something, they could care less about human ethics or Ministry law. "I assume you wish to do a magical emancipation, not a Ministry one."

"Correct."

Roldenbek nodded. "The easiest way to do so would be for you to attempt to put one of your Lord rings. Of course, the Ministry would have no record of it unless you registered it with them."

Harry knew that already, but he had no plans on registering. At least, not as  _Harry Potter_. Good thing his full name was actually Harrigan James Peverell-Potter, just as his father's had actually been James Charlus Peverell-Potter, and his grandfather's had been Charles Jacobus Peverell-Potter.

The Potter family had ignored the Peverell part of their lineage for generations because the Peverell family has always been Dark in nature. After all, the three brothers had been necromancers of a fashion.

Nearly all muggleborns were born with Grey cores, Harry's mother among them, and no Potter has ever been born with a pure Light core since they intermarried with the Peverells so it wasn't surprising that Harry had a Dark core. He figured it was high time to embrace that.

"I wish to claim Lordship of the Peverell line first," Harry said.

Roldenbek's eyes flashed in surprise. "You know quite a lot for a ten-year-old, Mr. Potter."

Harry said nothing and Roldenbek walked over to the highly protected magical trunk where all the awaiting lord and heir rings that he was charged with were kept. The goblin pulled out a smaller box with Harry's full name engraved on top. He brought the box to the desk and set it in front of Harry before opening it.

There were four rings laid on a velvet cushion. Harry recognized all of them, because he'd taught himself to recognize all the family crests in wizarding Britain and even the larger magical community, but they weren't quite the same as had been available to him when he'd come to claim his Lordship at twenty-one.

Harry reached forward and picked up the largest ring. The Peverell crest was actually the Deathly Hallows symbol. Only a descendant of the Peverell line could ever become the Master of Death. Since the only two left were Harry and Voldemort, he figured he had a good chance of becoming it again—if he wanted to be so. He knew that, at the very least, he wanted to claim the Elder Wand from Dumbledore. The old fool hardly deserved that wand.

He slipped the lord ring onto the index finger of his right hand, as was appropriate for such a powerful Lord ring. Immediately the Dark magic surged through his being, testing him with such intensity that his frail body nearly seized. Harry's adult magic calmed the ring's power down, though, and with a dark glitter the ring resized and settled onto his finger.

Roldenbek was practically gaping. Harry smirked and the goblin got a hold of himself. "Is that all you wish to claim today, Lord Peverell?"

Harry considered the other rings. If he claimed the two heir rings, the Lords would be notified immediately. Harry blinked, just now realizing that the ring he'd initially thought was the Black heir ring wasn't. "What's that one?"

Roldenbek looked at the smaller ring, it's crest that of a stylized serpent. "The Slytherin heir ring, Lord Peverell."

Harry nodded. The Black crest had a raven on it. He supposed the only reason he'd though the two were the same was because he'd expected the Black ring to be here. After all, Sirius was his godfather and even in prison he was the rightful Lord Black. Since Sirius had no sons, the Black heir ring was supposed to go to Harry—but the ring wasn't on the cushion.

In his old time, he'd been able to claim the Lord rings for the Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Black lines. The other heir ring was indeed the Gryffindor one. Dumbledore wore the Lord ring for that line, which is one of the reasons he was made Harry's magical guardian upon Sirius' imprisonment.

Harry knew he'd been able to claim the Slytherin Lord ring because of the fact that he'd killed the last of the line and by right of magic that had transferred the lineage to him. Similarly, though not the same, Dumbledore had the Gryffindor Lord ring because he'd won it in a hushed-up duel with Harry's grandfather. Headmasters or mistresses couldn't interact with the Hogwarts' wards unless they were the Lord or Lady of one of the Founders' lines.

So, was the Slytherin heir ring available to him because of his temporary defeat of Voldemort? It made sense, he supposed. Lineage magic was strange in that way.

The goblins had to know Voldemort wasn't dead, Harry realized. Not that it mattered—they had always been neutral in the war, but it was interesting that they never said anything.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Where's the Black heir ring?"

Roldenbek looked honestly confused for a moment. "Sirius Black still wears it. He will continue to wear it unless Lord Black officially disowns him."

"Lord Black?" Harry's mind raced. Was Orion Black still alive? He was supposed to have died in 1979. Did Wretcher's presence over Kreacher's prolong his life somehow?

"Lord Regulus Black, yes. Interesting business, of course, since Sirius is the older brother, but the old Lady Black officially named Regulus the next Lord in her will and the ring accepted him. Now, I'm not sure you'll ever be getting the Black heir ring, Lord Peverell, for even if Lord Black takes the heir ring from his brother, I hear he's close with young Draco Malfoy and the boy has just as much a blood tie to the Black family as you do through your grandmother."

"Oh." Harry let all that assimilate for a moment. After he left Gringotts, he'd freak out about Regulus still being alive, but he couldn't do that in front of the sharp-minded goblin. "That's fine then."

"The other rings, Lord Peverell?"

"Right." Harry looked at them again. He was definitely going to hold off on the Gryffindor and Potter ones, at least until he was of age, but the Slytherin one interested him. Wearing that ring would allow him some—minimal but some—control over the Hogwarts' wards and magic. He figured that might be useful in the future, so without further ado he reached for the ring and slipped it onto his right ring finger.

The seductive magic of the Slytherin family slid over him. It didn't do nearly as much of an invasive search, just a light sort of prodding at Harry's scar, and then it settled down.

"That's all for now," Harry said. "I have access to the Peverell vault and my Potter trust vault, correct?"

"Yes, Lord Peverell," Roldenbek said. "The main Potter vault will be closed to you until you reach your majority or claim that Lordship, of course, and the main Slytherin vault is closed to you unless Lord Slytherin gives permission."

Harry felt a flash of foreboding and frowned. "Where is Lord Slytherin now?" He figured the goblin would shrug—hoped the goblin would shrug, but the foreboding grew stronger as the goblin just frowned.

"I have no specifics as I am not the Slytherin estate manager, but I believe he renovated the old Gaunt manor a few years ago. You may be able to floo call him, as you are his heir."

Voldemort was still alive. At least, probably. Harry had no confirmation that this Lord Slytherin was indeed Tom Marvolo Riddle, but it seemed most likely. How in Merlin's name did Kreacher's non-existence inadvertently cause this?

Harry looked down at his Peverell Lord ring. By right of age, any Gaunt had more claim to the Peverell line since they descended from the eldest Peverell, Cadmus. Still, Harry knew from talking to the portraits in the Peverell account that since Ignotus was the last to die, he was also the one who'd been Lord Peverell and had passed down that title through his line, not his brother's line. If Harry were to die, then Voldemort would be the next in line to be Lord Peverell, but as of right now he was probably only able to claim the Peverell heir ring. Harry wondered if he had.

The ring responded to his mental question, as Lord rings were wont to do, and sent back a tiny jolt of affirmation. Harry let out a deep breath. So he was Lord Slytherin's heir, but Lord Slytherin was his heir. How… interesting.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and then cleared his mind. He had a lot to think on later.

"I want a bag which draws straight from my trust vault," Harry said. "I also want any other trust vault keys in existence to become void. Statements for both the Peverell and Potter funds should be sent directly to me, under the name Harrigan Peverell."

"Of course, Lord Peverell," Roldenbek said, making a note. "The endless bag will cost you ten galleons."

"Take it directly from my account," Harry said easily. Roldenbek handed him the bag and he stuck it in the inside pocket of his transfigured robe. "Now, I want a couple items from my Peverell vault. Has my previous magical guardian withdrawn anything from that vault?"

"No."

Harry nodded. According to the portraits, Dumbledore had taken the Peverell invisibility cloak straight from the account Harry's first year at Hogwarts. It was allowed for magical guardians to withdraw select items from their ward's vaults, so it had been legal, but it still made Harry angry thinking about it.

The trip to the Peverell vault was short. The Peverell family was one of the oldest still in existence and one of the first to make an account with Gringotts. The vault was number three, which Harry found oddly appropriate.

He didn't wake any of the sleeping portraits in the vault as he grabbed both the invisibility cloak and the full set of magical seals with the Peverell crest. In the corner was a set of wands. In his old timeline, Harry had found that the wand of Ignotus Peverell was a near perfect match for him. He'd used it as a secondary wand and he would do the same now. It was especially useful to have it since he didn't want to have to deal with the brother wands issue with Voldemort if he needed to take the man down.

Merlin, what to do about Voldemort? It was much easier to plan when he and Ginny had already figured him to a be a lost cause, but if Voldemort was functional enough that the Slytherin Lord ring had accepted him, he wasn't he same Voldemort as from their old time.

Harry left Gringotts just a little while later and headed first to Knockturn Alley. He knew of a shop that sold a number of illegal potions and until he had a place in which to brew his own aging potion, he'd have to deal with that. It was easy enough for Harry to buy a dozen aging potions. They lasted a full twenty-four hours, so as long as he remembered to take them before he went to bed every day, he was set.

He set the aging potion to only age him ten years. He didn't want to take the potions forever and it would be far less strange for him to seem un-aging for the next ten years until he could stop taking them when this physical body was twenty. Wizards lived for up to two hundred years, sometimes, and Ignotus' Peverell line was especially long-lived when it came to natural aging, so it wouldn't be too weird for Harrigan Peverell to have such a quirk.

Even in his old life, Harry had looked more like a twenty-year-old at thirty then most. Ginny always used to complain about it. Now, she'd probably complain about being stuck in a nine-year-old's body while he was allowed to make himself seem the adult he actually was.

Next stop was Twilfit and Tattings for a full wardrobe fit for a Lord. Harry had them make all the robes just slightly bigger than he needed. Even with the aging potion, his current body was too skinny and he planned to fix that  _soon_. A daily dose of nutrient potions and a few healing trances would do the trick. Harry wore one of his new sets of robes out and set about to get his eyesight fixed. He then got some beauty potions, usually for covering acne, to conceal his scar. He grew his hair out a bit so that the bangs would be an extra coverage while the rest of his hair he tied back in a short ponytail.

Harry headed to Ollivander's then to get his Holly wand. The man was behind the desk when he opened the door. Harry rested his hands on the outside of his robe, clearly showing off the Lord ring.

"What can I do for you, Lord Peverell?" Ollivander asked, his misty eyes sharp.

"I am in need of a new wand," Harry stated.

It was easy enough after that for Ollivander to busy himself with trying to find Harry a wand. The man tried several times to engage Harry in conversation, but Harry brushed it away every time.

Finally, Ollivander hesitantly walked up to him with a familiar wand box in hand. Harry smiled and let the humming of his Holly and Phoenix Feather wand consume him. He picked the wand off and a shower of black and silver sparks jumped through the air.

"Curious," Ollivander murmured.

"Oh?" Harry asked.

Ollivander frowned, glancing at the Slytherin heir ring. "The phoenix who's feather is in your wand gave but one other feather. Your wand's brother—"

"Is Lord Slytherin?" Harry asked, wondering if this was the proof he needed.

Ollivander neither denied nor affirmed. Harry supposed that was safe, considering the man would know that Lord Voldemort had held that same wand and if Lord Slytherin was pretending not to have been Voldemort... Harry really needed to figure that all out. He left Ollivander's after paying seven galleons.

He bought Hedwig next. The beautiful snowy owl took one look at him and landed on his shoulder. Harry found himself relaxing as she preened his hair. His owl always was too smart for her own good and she not doubt felt the tattered ends of the familiar bond they'd had before her death had snapped it. He figured the bond would be back by the end of the week. And this time, he wouldn't let Hedwig die. He bought a semi-illegal amulet to place around her neck that would protect her from mishandling and most curses. She could still be hit by the killing curse, but Harry knew she could dodge out of the way of one of those ninety-percent of the time.

Last on his list was a multi-purpose trunk complete with a full potions' set, enough ink, parchment, and quills to last him the year, and other miscellaneous items he might need.

That done, Harry tried to think of where he could go. He'd planned on fixing up Grimmauld Place again, but if Regulus was alive then he undoubtedly lived there and beside Harry wouldn't be allowed into the wards without the Black heir ring. Harry frowned, rubbing his thumb over his Peverell ring. In his old time, the Peverell Manor had been destroyed before he'd learned of its existence. He'd always suspected Dumbledore's involvement in that. The old coot knew Harry's core was naturally Dark, after all, and had wanted to erase all traces of the Dark side of Harry's family.

Could it be Dumbledore hadn't gotten around to that yet?

Harry apparated just outside the Peverell gates. He grinned for the first time since coming back in time. The Manor still stood; it's dark stone reverberating with old Dark magic.

There were barely any wards left around the manor's grounds. Harry could see how Dumbledore had been able to destroy the place if this amount of protection was all he'd had to deal with. Harry stepped forward and the gates opened for him easily, the magic recognizing that he was now its Lord.

Harry walked up to the front door of the manor and through that into the front hallway. It was far less dusty then he'd imagined it would be. He wondered how.

There were several pops and Harry got his answer. The house elves all bowed. They all wore black tea towels with the Peverell crest on the front. Most of the crests were in white, but one had it in silver. This was the head elf, then. Harry turned to that one. "Your name?"

"Belby, Master," the elf said. "We is pleased and surprised that a Master has come to visit us."

"I've come to do more than visit, Belby. I'll be making this manor my home. I'm pleased that you all have kept up with its maintenance." Inwardly, Harry was seething at the thought of Dumbledore killing these five elves along with the manor. He'd be creating new wards as soon as he had the magical build up to manage the magic for it.

It was easy enough after that for Belby to show him around the manor. It wasn't the largest of manors, certainly not like Malfoy Manor, and Harry was quite pleased with it. There were three floors above ground and one below. There was also a separate owlery and barn. Harry had never owned horses or any of the mythical counterparts like pegasi, but he could see himself indulging in one some day. Any animal that flew and would let him ride it was a animal worth having, in Harry's mind.

The master bedroom sat on the top floor of the manor in the family wing. It had rosewood furniture, like the rest of house, which pleased Harry even more than the mahogany of Grimmauld Place had.

Harry set about informing one of the house elves, Doily, to collect his wardrobe from Twilfit and Tattings and then sat down to write a quick letter to Ginny, explaining the situation and giving her the apparition coordinates for the Manor to come when she could get away from her family. He called Hedwig over and handed her the letter.

"Make sure to give this to Ginny Weasley only when no one else is watching," Harry informed his beautiful snowy owl. "And wait for a reply, please."

Hedwig hooted and flew off into the sunset.

Harry watched the sun go down for a moment. He was exhausted. It had been a long Yule day and he still hadn't had time to truly think over the Voldemort and Regulus situation, but his eyes refused to stay open.

Harry shed his clothes and slid under the beautifully-embrodiered down comforter. He was asleep between one breath and the next.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've indicated the eventual pairing is going to be Harry/Draco, but currently Draco is only ten, I figured I should mention that there will be quite a number of time skips coming up. Harry will not be having sex with an underage Draco, though he will start courting him while he's underage (probably around fifteen).

Over the next several weeks, Harry worked to fix his body. He set up a potions' lab in the basement and brewed for most of the day. After dinner, he went to the adjacent dueling room and worked on regaining the muscle he needed to be a duelist capable of taking down someone as strong as Dumbledore or Voldemort.

Ginny wasn't able to write him often and hadn't yet had the chance to visit him, but from what she did say it seemed to her that nothing had changed at the Burrow with the notable exception that there was no rat. It seemed Peter Pettigrew had never hidden out as Scabbers. If indeed Lord Slytherin was Voldemort, which Harry still needed to confirm, he supposed that made sense.

Over meals, Harry read over past issues of  _The Prophet_. Regulus Black, judging by his pictures and quotes, was a confident young man. He seemed to be good friends with the Malfoys, like Roldenbek had suggested, and frequently proposed bills alongside Lucius and, surprise surprise, Lord Slytherin.

Harry caught a break on his search for Lord Slytherin's true identity two weeks after the ritual. The front page of the paper had a full-sized picture of the man and there was no doubt in Harry's mind that it was Tom Marvolo Riddle smiling up at him. He stared at the man's strange hazel eyes for a long moment, before closing the paper.

What could have changed? Kreacher never existed, but the House of Black still probably had Wretcher. Kreacher said they were twins and while Harry knew that twins weren't exact copies of each other, it shouldn't have made so much a difference. Kreacher had reassured them several times while they prepared for the ritual that his brother and he were very similar—both devoted to Walburga Black, enough that they'd attacked each other for her entertainment.

Harry rubbed his temples, but before he could think more on it, the new wards around the property pinged at him. He sent a tendril of his magic out to test who it was, and then drew back as he felt Ginny's familiar aura. "Doily," Harry said, calling one of the house elves. "Escort Miss Weasley to me, if you please."

Doily bowed and popped away. By the time Ginny made it to the sitting room Harry was at, he'd had another house elf make them both tea.

Ginny smiled from the entrance of the sitting room. It was strange to Harry to see her as a nine-year-old. Her once beautiful long hair was now braided into pigtails that barely reached her collarbone. Her freckles stood out even more on her pale skin than they had in the future and brown eyes were wide. She was, in one word, adorable.

"I suppose it's no wonder your parents thought you had a Light core like them, if you looked like this as a child," Harry stated.

Ginny pouted. "You make fun of me, my lord," she said, her voice childish but the intonations the same she'd used in the future.

Harry gestured for Ginny to take a seat on the armchair next to his. She did, her feet dangling off the ground. He hid a smile behind his teacup.

"What is your family doing this morning, then?" Harry asked, because Ginny wouldn't have left if she hadn't been certain she wouldn't be missed. "And how long do we have?"

"Various things," Ginny stated. "But I'm supposed to be playing with Luna all day." She frowned. "You know how we used to think she might be a seer?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, when I arrived to play, she took one look at me and told me I could go have fun with, and I quote, 'our lord'. She's covering for me at least until dinner, though I probably shouldn't cut it that close."

"Our lord?" Harry repeated, raising an eyebrow. In the future, Luna Lovegood had been one of the first to leave the country along with her husband and mate, a strong alpha werewolf by the name of Rolf Scamander.

Ginny bit her bottom lip briefly. "Should I bring her here? You know I'm no good at Legilimency."

"If you get a chance to, then yes. Her father is a powerful Grey wizard in his own right, so don't take any chances." Harry pondered this new development for a moment. "If she truly is a seer and has accepted her place as one of mine, then I have no trouble with the idea of marking her. I think I would have, had she not left Britain."

"What about Rolf?" Ginny asked. "If you mark her now, you'll have to be careful how her future mate takes it. You know how possessive werewolves are, especially ones like him."

"Ones who don't suppress their instincts and urges like Remus did… does." Harry snorted. "It's no matter. I only met Rolf once, but I always got the feeling he respected my power. What's more, because Fenrir was killed in the war he'd ended up being the strongest alpha in Britain. Having him on our side is hardly a problem."

Ginny nodded, sipping her tea. Harry studied her for a moment. She was nervous about something.

"Spit it out," Harry said.

Ginny flushed slightly. "You haven't marked me yet," she said, rubbing at the front of her right shoulder. "I thought you'd do that the minute I arrived."

Harry sat back. "Is it a good idea? Are you sure your parents or siblings won't find it?"

"I don't care," Ginny said tersely and then sighed. "But I should."

Harry waited.

"Maybe," Ginny said finally. "I'm not so worried about Ron or Percy—they both have weak minds so I can erase their memories with wandless magic. The twins will think it funny I got a tattoo, but they won't tell if I ask them not to. Charlie and Bill are both Hogwarts students now and I know Bill is aware that he's Grey, not Light like our parents. He'll probably sense something's different about me."

"He certainly has the strongest natural talent of your family," Harry agreed. "The Charlie I knew followed Bill's advice anywhere. Is that true now?"

"It always has been," Ginny said. "Charlie is and always will be Bill's right hand. One of the reasons he moved out of Britain for his dragon work was to follow Bill. He was closer to Egypt in Romania then he would have been working with some of the Irish dragons."

"So if Charlie finds out, he'll likely go to Bill first. And if Bill finds out, then I want you to take him to me before he can do or say anything."

"You want to mark him too?"

"You know I always preferred your older brothers. Bill told me…." Harry trailed off.

Ginny frowned at him. "He knew, didn't he? In our old life?"

Harry nodded. "He did. He confronted me about it a month after I marked you."

"So a few months after we got married."

"Exactly. I explained to him what I could, because it was an open secret between us, the nature of each other's magic. Victorie was just born, as you remember, and she was very clearly Dark in core."

"Well, Veelas tend on the Darker side of Grey as creatures," Ginny noted.

Harry nodded. "He was concerned for his family, about the direction Britain was going. He asked if I was going to do anything about it, but I'd already decided it was a lost cause. I had spent too long alienating powerful Dark families to pick up their cause then. So I told him to leave Britain and he did."

"I never knew," Ginny murmured.

"I know you didn't. It struck me a little, I remember now. He told me before he left that I only had to ask and he would kneel for me. At the time, I took that as a statement of loyalty, and because of his new werewolf instincts." Harry rested his chin on his open palm, looking down at his tea. "Perhaps it was even more loyalty then I'd thought."

"Okay," Ginny said. "I… okay. So my oldest brothers probably aren't a problem. Then it's just my parents you're worried about."

"Molly was one of the first pure Light Prewetts in a hundred years," Harry said. "I know she thought she'd be able to escape the Darker aspects of her line by marrying into the Weasleys, but she obviously failed consider that you and Bill have Grey cores and even the twins and Charlie's Light cores aren't very pure. Only Ron and Percy were born with fully Light cores."

"I know," Ginny stated. "What about it?"

"Molly is, even more so than her husband, so staunchly pro-Light that there's no way she'd even let herself consider her children as anything but. Arthur might, but he loves you all and he follows his wife."

"It's not secret my dad's rather submissive," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Harry smirked. "Indeed." He took a breath and then nodded. "Very well, considering your obvious feelings on the matter, it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Ginny's smile almost literally brightened the room. She immediately got off her armchair and knelt at Harry's feet with both knees on the ground. She didn't keep her head down, but she did bare her throat to the right to give Harry easier access to her shoulder.

Harry pulled down the edge of Ginny's simple dress. Her shoulder was covered in freckles and rather slender. He pressed the tip of his wand to the crevice on front of her shoulder—his Holly one because it was a slightly better fit than Ignotus', though neither were as powerful as the Elder Wand had been in his hands.

" _Florae Meae Immortali_ ," Harry intoned. With each word he spoke, the mark formed. Starting from the tip of his wand, a gorgeous black rose began to bloom. As soon as it was complete, it's border swirling like blood and then crystalized as a glittering ruby red. "The first of my Blood Blossoms, beautiful Ginevra."

"Thank you, my lord," Ginny murmured, her voice hoarse. Harry knew the process hadn't hurt her, for he'd designed it not to, but it was a forceful suppression of her magic to accept his and that was powerful in its own right.

"Stand," Harry said.

Ginny got to her feet, swaying uneasily for a moment. Harry steadied her and sat her down on the chair. He called an elf for more tea and a Pepper Up.

Once Ginny looked a bit less pale, she turned her brown eyes to him. "About the changes, my lord."

"You told me about the lack of Scabbers," Harry said. "Look at this." He pushed the paper forward, showcasing the picture of Tom Riddle.

Ginny gasped. "That's… but…."

Harry smirked. "Do you regret becoming my again? This was your chance to be his, apparently."

Ginny glared. "Never, my lord. I told you, I am yours. I always will be yours."

Harry laughed. "I know. No need to get defensive, I was merely teasing." He let his smile drop as he glanced back at the picture. "Still, this changes things."

"You said Regulus was alive in your letters," Ginny murmured. "But even so, I hadn't actually believed the Lord Slytherin you mentioned was Tom. Only…." She traced his face with a finger. The picture smiled up at her and gave a little bow. All fake, they could both tell, but believably charming to the public eye.

"How old was Kreacher?" Ginny asked. "Could he have affected Tom never making a Horcrux?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't believe so. Kreacher and Wretcher were born into the Black family around the time Riddle went to Hogwarts. Just having one house elf born wouldn't have affected anything."

"Regulus, then," Ginny suggested. "He didn't die. Is that because of a lack of Horcruxes, or something else?"

"We have no assurances Riddle didn't make Horcruxes, only that he didn't make as many," Harry said. "Just one or two would have kept him sane enough."

"True." Ginny worried at her bottom lip. "It'll be harder to convert the Slytherins now," she said, as if to herself. "Their parents will have already started training them to be Voldemort's… provided he's still marking Death Eaters."

"I went through some history books," Harry said. "The old war sounds the same. There was a Lord Voldemort, he had Death Eaters, they conducted raids mostly against anti-Dark families and some muggles. My parents were still killed and the killing curse still reflected off me." Harry touched his scar. "I believe I'm still a Horcrux."

"Have you sectioned that part of your mind off yet?" Ginny asked, obviously worried.

Harry shook his head. "I've been working on getting stronger. I will soon. Tomorrow, if I can."

Ginny let the matter drop, though Harry knew that if their power dynamic were different she wouldn't have. "So the change occurred sometime after Voldemort became a spirit. Maybe Pettigrew was able to resurrect him earlier," Ginny said. "And with a better ritual. Or maybe the extra years it took in our original time added to Voldemort's insanity."

"There's no way for us to be sure, at least not with the information we can get from old newspapers and books," Harry said.

Ginny studied him. "You plan on introducing yourself to him."

"Not exactly." Harry grinned. "I think Lord Peverell will be taking his seat on the Wizengamot."

Harry never joined the other Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot in his old time because he knew he wouldn't have been able to vote for anti-Dark bills like he would have been expected to and not gone crazy. He was honestly looking forward to the new experience. No one would expect Lord Peverell to vote Light, after all.

Dumbledore might be a problem, but he wouldn't be able to assume Harry was Harry. After all, there was no way young Harry Potter would be accepted by the Peverell Lord ring and beside hopefully the old man thought Harry was dead. He'd probably figure, along with everyone else, that Lord Peverell was some long lost relative of the Cadmus or Antioch line. With young Harry's supposed death, Harrigan had then been able to claim the Lord ring where he might have previously had the heir ring. Harry's identity should be safe at least for a little while, if not forever.

The only person that could legitimately cause a mess along those lines of thought would be Lord Slytherin, but then as long as Riddle wasn't aware that the Potters were actually Peverell-Potters, Harry was fine.

Ginny huffed. "Have fun, my lord."

"I will." Harry stood, holding out his hand for her. With his aging potions, he was much larger than her. It was almost comical, him trying to escort her out the front door and to the edge of his property with her arm around his like they used to do. "You best be getting back."

"Of course. I'll bring Luna to you when I can. And Bill too, if he starts getting suspicious."

"Keep me updated. Now that the mark's back, you know you can send short messages through it if there's an emergency." Harry kissed the top of her head and Ginny flushed, the disgust of being a child again obviously warring with the happiness of her lord's pleasure.

"Goodbye, my lord," Ginny said and then stepped across the property line so she could disapparate back to Luna's house.

Harry watched her go and then headed back inside.

.Ooo

Harry sunk into his mindscape. He opened his mental eyes and looked around. His mind was deceptively simple. It was a sunny room. There was a bookshelf in one corner and a desk in the other. Underneath the open window was a long couch. There was an owl perch next to the couch. The walls were simple grey stone and the floor was wooden.

Harry smiled, heading over to the window. Creeping inside was a vine. Had Neville been there, he would have remarked it was like no plant he'd ever seen. There were buds covering it, all possibilities for his Blood Blossoms, but the only one open was a single black rose.

On the vine next to the rose was a four-leaf clover. Harry looked at it for a moment, and then at the closed bud on top of the leaves. He touched the bud and felt the echo of another mark. It wasn't strong, not like the one he'd put on Ginny, but the presence of where one would be.

"Luna," Harry breathed, and then shook his head. Seer magic was a truly strange thing. Still, he was glad to see what Luna's flower would be. A clover blossom—appropriately lucky, he figured. She needed something more unique then a red or a white clover, though. He'd have to think on it.

Harry pulled away from the vine he hoped would one day be full of the bonds he had with his followers. He checked the owl perch and found his bond with Hedwig repairing nicely. He headed over to the couch then. There used to be a pillow on it representing his bond with Kreacher. The pillow was gone. Harry sighed, missing the cranky elf. There were five small throws over the back of the couch now, signifying his bonds with his new house elves. He ignored them and moved toward the bookshelf.

None of the books had titles. Harry ran his fingers across the spines, getting a flash of what each of them held. It'd be hard for a stranger who managed to get past his preliminary Occlumency walls to find what they wanted to know, without any direction as to which book to pull. The top shelf was his education—the good and the bad. The next shelf contained his Hogwarts memories, not including the classroom lectures and studying that were in the education tomes.

The next few shelves held a book each for the people of his life. Ginny had the first book, a large red and black volume. Next to her were two large books on Ron and Hermione. He ignored them, not liking to think about how he and the other parts of the once dubbed Golden Trio had splintered after Voldemort had been defeated. Then was the large blindingly white book on Dumbledore. Next to that was the pitch black book on Tom Riddle aka Voldemort. Then there was a book for each of the Malfoys and other Death Eaters, for all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, Ministry members, various reporters, etc.. Some books were so thin they only held a page or two of information. Others were thick enough even Hermione wouldn't have been able to read them in a week.

The very last shelf held his memories post-war—specifically when he and Ginny had truly allowed themselves to explore the full magical world. He smiled down at those. They weren't all Dark in nature—there were quite a number of Light adventures they'd gone on too in parts of the Mediterranean and the Americas. The fact that those were the only adventures they shared with their supposed friends and family was telling.

Harry pulled away from the bookshelf and turned to the other corner, where the desk sat. He walked slowly toward it. Inside the desk was the bulk of his power—for he didn't feel the need to unlock many of those drawers most of the time. The full pressure of his magical power was strong enough even Muggles would be able to sense it. There was a reason Dumbledore had bound much of it in his past life. Harry had already gotten rid of all of Dumbledore's clumsy bindings the last few weeks, but he hadn't touched the very bottom drawer in the desk that had once held the remnants of Voldemort's Horcrux.

When he'd destroyed Voldemort's Horcrux in his other life, the thing had been in the form of some demented baby creature. Afterwards, that drawer had held it's severed head—the ghost of Voldemort's touch and the memory of what he'd done. Harry didn't regret killed who Voldemort had become, but he was holding off judgment on doing it again until he had more information.

Harry sighed. The drawer was definitely holding something. Dark magic leaked from it. Harry was glad his mind was naturally organized, or Riddle might have been able to learn who he was in the two weeks Harry had waited on doing something about this.

Harry reached toward another drawer and pulled it open. Immediately, he felt a great uplift of strength. Prepared now, he reached toward the Horcrux drawer.

The minute Harry touched the drawer, he felt that fragile connection with Voldemort? Riddle? He couldn't quite tell. Voldemort, to him, was the insane mess of his past life. Riddle was who the man could have been and who he seemed to be in this life.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the drawer and stared. Instead of the demented baby he'd expected to see, what sat in it was a small snake, no bigger than the length of his forearm. Its scales were the same green of the killing curse, but with a long lighting bolt running down its head in white.

The snake looked up. The drawer was deep enough it could see nothing except Harry. Harry looked back into those startlingly red eyes. All of the sudden, he felt that Voldemort… or no, Riddle had felt the connection and had opened it up to try and see what was going on.

::Who are you?:: the snake hissed. Harry had heard the old Voldemort hiss enough to recognize that voice as his.

::Not important, as of yet,:: Harry hissed back, enjoying the way the snake's eyes widened in reaction of Riddle's shock. ::I am a practitioner of the Dark, as I imagine you are. I was surprised, I admit, to find a Horcrux in this boy's body.::

::What boy?:: the snake asked.

::Young Harry Potter, I believe,:: Harry said. ::Seems he ran off from his home, or got lost. Either way, some creature seems to have found him in the woods near my home. He's in pieces, but enough is left of his head for me to see that infamous scar.::

The snake just looked at him, but Harry felt a harsh probe, as if Riddle was trying to test his honesty. Harry blocked him a slightly stronger mental shield. ::Stop that. I don't wish to be your enemy.:: He paused. ::Not unless your goals and mine do not meet.::

::Who are you?:: the snake asked again.

::You'll find out soon enough, I imagine,:: Harry replied. ::Now, I'm going to banish this Horcrux. It should absorb into you if you keep the connection open.::

The snake's eyes narrowed. ::And what exactly will you be wanting for such generosity?:: They both knew Harry could just as easily just destroy the Horcrux, but then Riddle would lose that portion of his soul permanently. Nasty stuff, that.

::I'm sure we'll discuss that when we meet,:: Harry said easily. He had the advantage here, but only just. He still didn't know what had happened to change everything from what it should have been. This was the perfect way to find out.

The snake said nothing. Riddle knew he was caught, though he obviously wasn't happy about it. Smirking just a bit, Harry lifted his hand and touched the snake's head. He gathered up all the energy in his body and with a solid  _push_ , thrust the snake out of his mindscape.

Harry came to several minutes later. He was lying on the floor of his own mindscape, the Horcrux drawer still open. Groaning, he closed and locked the drawer shot, barely glancing at the snakeskin the Horcrux had left. There wasn't enough power in that for Riddle to be able to do anything.

He barely had enough strength to leave the confines of his own mind. He'd been in bed when he'd gone into his own mindscape. He stayed in bed for the rest of the day.

.Ooo

Harry couldn't do anything about the Wizengamot for now. The group was in intermission and they wouldn't be starting voting again until the summer started. He'd have to make sure to head to the Ministry at some point and get his Lordship verified, but he was in no rush.

Harry was used to spending his days studying and practicing his various arts, so that was what he continued to do. He still wasn't sure about his ability to match a sane Riddle in a duel—even if the man underestimated him. He'd caught the other Dark Lord's interest with that Horcrux thing.

Ginny wrote to him saying she hadn't noticed her family being suspicious—though Bill and Charlie were currently at Hogwarts for the spring term and therefore the eldest brother wouldn't know anything was different yet. Harry reminded her to bring Luna when she could. He wasn't impatient. In fact, Harry had in general learned to become a very patient person in the past ten years of his life having to hide who he really was from nearly everyone. However, that didn't mean he wasn't glad when the wards told him there were two people standing outside them.

Harry had Doily go get the two girls. He wondered briefly if he should be upset about marking children. Ginny was one thing, she was mentally an adult, but Luna was still only nine.

Well, it wasn't like he was the kind of Dark Lord Voldemort was, or at least used to be.

The girls arrived in the sitting room then. Ginny stayed back and let Luna walk forward. Harry looked down at the girl's bright blue eyes. He gently probed into her mind and was immediately met with the kind of Occlumency shield no ordinary child would have. Harry grimaced. He'd only encountered that kind of shield once before—on Trelawney. It was Magic's own way of protecting the secret of those she blessed with Sight.

Luna smiled at him. "I am a seer, my lord."

Harry studied her. "And you are okay with being marked? I will be able to force you to tell me your visions." Most seers guarded their independence viciously.

"It's okay, my lord," she said in her dreamy voice. "I would have taken your mark eventually. I don't know why. I just figured I might as well do it now."

Harry huffed. "Do you know who I am?"

Luna shook her head. Harry wasn't surprised. Luna might have seer abilities, but they were likely untrained. The fact that she was confident enough to kneel before a stranger and take his mark was saying something about the certainty of her visions about him.

"Come here then, Luna," Harry said.

Luna walked closer and then knelt at his feet. She was wearing a patchwork dress with only one sleeve, leaving her right shoulder completely bare. Harry touched it, frowning. "What will your father say to my mark?" Xenophilius Lovegood wasn't a seer, but he was probably aware his daughter was. Still, the man was ridiculously protective of his only child.

"I already told him," Luna said. "He asked if you'd hurt me. I promised you'd never. He made me ask the stars again to make sure. You won't."

"No, I don't think I will," Harry agreed. He unsheathed his wand. "I won't be putting your mark the same place as Ginny's." He'd always thought it stupid that not only were all the Death Eater marks the exact same, they were also always in the same spot. He planned on being a little subtler.

Harry brushed just a bit of Luna's blond hair aside and touched his wand to her left temple. "How about here?"

"Whatever pleases you, my lord," Luna said. She didn't speak the statement in the same way Ginny would. For Ginny, she truly wanted to do only what Harry wanted. For Luna, it was as if she honestly didn't care. Differences of personality. Harry looked up at where Ginny stood watching. Ginny's eyes held just a little bit of jealousy. He smiled at her and she relaxed. They'd both known that if he marked Luna, the young seer would be able to behave differently from Harry's other followers. Harry wouldn't ever punish Luna for disrespect—she was, in some ways, beyond that. The great thing about Luna was that she'd never take advantage of it outside of her own airy ways.

Harry intoned the spell. A four-leaf clover sprang from the tip of his wand and in the center of it bloomed a bright blue blossom. He pulled his wand back and held the now shaking girl. A house elf popped in with a potion and Harry fed it to her.

After a moment, Luna pulled back from him and reached up to touch the new mark. "Is it pretty?" she asked Ginny.

"Very," Ginny told her. "You want to go back now?"

Luna nodded, looking back at Harry shyly. Harry had to smile again. Luna was only a small girl, after all. "You've been very brave. Go now. I won't call on you at least until you are at Hogwarts, but should you get any visions you think I should know, inform Ginny so she can tell me."

"Yes, my lord," Luna said. Ginny bowed to him and gently escorted Luna out.

Harry rubbed his face and looked at the ceiling. He needed some older followers. Preferably, some among the Wizengamot.

"Guess I'll head to the Ministry tomorrow," Harry said aloud. He'd start making a plan from there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a poll (in the reviews). Who do you guys think would be a good future husband for Ginny? I've have a couple ideas myself, but I'm not sure yet who I'm going to go with so I'd love to hear your opinions.

Harry made sure to dress in dark blue robes instead of the green ones that were his favorite. Green was too associated with Slytherin for the British Wizarding World and that was not the first impression Harry wanted to make at the Ministry, even if everyone would assume, correctly, that he was Dark because of his surname. Still, Harry wanted to attempt to  _not_ alienate all non-Dark wizards immediately.

Just because he was a Dark Lord didn't mean he wasn't going to actively seek followers of other magical variations. Ginny, his right hand, was a darker Grey after all and Luna—like all seers—was exactly in the middle of the spectrum. If he had his way, he'd mark several Light witches and wizards as well. Magic was magic and the only problem he had with the Light side was its anti-Dark propaganda. His followers would learn to respect all forms of magic regardless of what type of core someone was born with.

Harry looked himself over in the mirror. His hair was in a neat ponytail with the bangs hanging artfully over his forehead. He'd made sure to apply the cover-up potion to his scar just in case. Without his glasses, his green eyes shone like the Killing Curse. His cheekbones were high and aristocratic and his skin was smooth. Combined with the tasteful navy blue robes that hugged his body, he looked good.

"You look ravishing, darling," his mirror said with a purr.

Harry laughed. He certainly nothing like he'd looked at ten, which would be his largest defense against Dumbledore. He couldn't be sure the man hadn't actually checked on him through his years at the Dursleys after all—Dumbledore could very well know what he looked like at that age.

Well, hopefully Dumbledore was panicking about him being 'dead'. Since nothing had been reported yet in the papers, Harry figured the headmaster was keeping it under wraps while he investigated whether or not Harry Potter was truly gone for good.

Dumbledore only had a little while to keep it quiet. It was March now. Soon it would be summer, and then it would be what would have been Harry's first year at Hogwarts. When he didn't show up for the Sorting, people would have questions. Harry was interested to see if Dumbledore would say he was dead, or if he would make up some crackpot excuse about special training.

Harry slipped his galleon pouch into a pocket in his robes and slotted his wand into its holster. He strolled out of his bedroom. He'd spent nearly all of February setting up the wards around Peverell Manor and now he, and everyone else, had to walk to the foyer to apparate inside the property.

He could have keyed himself into the apparition wards, of course, but Harry had learned a lot of things in the war and one was that if the apparition wards allowed _anyone_  to apparate in them, that meant there was a hole that a skilled ward expert could use to rip the ward right open. It was much safer to do a full-on apparition ward that prevented any apparition except in a small, specified area. That way his other defenses inside the foyer could catch anyone attempting to do harm to him or his property.

Harry apparated to Diagon Alley and then ducked into the Leaky Cauldron. He looked around the pub as he waited for the elderly couple in front of him to use the Floo. It was early enough in the morning that there was only a couple patrons eating the gruel Tom the bartender cooked for breakfast. Tom himself was cleaning the perpetually dirty bar table. He saw Harry looking and gave him a nod. Harry nodded back politely. It was always good to be nice to the man who held the gossip of Diagon Alley in his gnarly hands.

Finally, Harry was able to use the Floo. "Ministry of Magic," he said calmly and was immediately routed to the atrium on the eighth floor of the Ministry. Harry sneered at the fountain. Its disgusting portrayal of magical creatures was sickening to see especially in a government building.

Collecting himself, Harry headed to the visitor's check-in.

"What's your business with the Ministry of Magic today?" the young check-in wizard asked. Harry wondered if it was his first day on the job. He was certainly much more enthusiastic than most of the check-in personnel at the Ministry were.

"I needed to talk with the Floo Network Services office and the Wizengamot Administration Services office," Harry told the teenager.

The young wizard handed Harry a badge that said FILING BORING PAPERWORK – FLOO and WIZENGAMOT. Harry snorted softly. Those badges had a mind of their own. It was impressive Charms work.

"You'll need to give me your wand until you leave, sir," the teen said. "We'll keep it safe until your business is done."

"I didn't bring my wand with me for exactly that reason," Harry lied. "I figured it was just easier to leave it at home."

The teen looked surprised. "Ah, okay sir. You'll have to step through the detector, though."

"No problem." Harry walked through the sensor. He sent a little burst of magic across his whole body, cloaking his wand. He'd perfected the move after the war. He'd never felt comfortable not having his wand on him but not even the Dark Lord's Slayer was allowed to keep his wand on him in the Ministry unless he accepted a job there—which he never had.

The sensor flickered but didn't go off and the teen gave Harry a smile and a "Have a nice day!"

Harry took the lift to the sixth floor where the Department of Magical Transportation was located. He headed to the Floo office. He was early enough that he didn't have to wait in line, which is what he'd planned for.

The witch behind the desk seemed the no nonsense type and gave him a disinterested stare when he walked up. "How may I help you today?" she asked in an obviously fake pleasant voice.

"I'd like to set up a Floo connection from my house," Harry said.

"Was it simply disconnected in the past or has it never been connected?"

"I'm not actually sure."

"What is the location?"

"Peverell Manor."

That earned him a wide-eyed look. The witch glanced down to where Harry's Lord ring was prominently displayed. "Let me check real quick, Lord Peverell," she said, suddenly much more sincere.

Harry waited as the witch looked through the records. After a few minutes, she came back with a folder. "Seems the Peverell Manor was connected a couple decades ago, but was shut down when the last owner of the manor died. I'll have the boys reconnect it on this end. Should be ready for use by tomorrow. If you need any specific help with monitoring the wards on the fireplaces around the manor, you can send an owl to the office here and someone will be sent out to assist you."

"I think I'll manage, thank you," Harry said. There was no way he was letting anyone else do the spellwork to ward his fireplaces. Besides, he'd done it before at Grimmauld Place—disconnecting a couple of the fireplaces in individual bedrooms and adding security measures for the main fireplace in the parlor—it'd be easy enough to do it for his new house.

Harry signed a few forms and then headed out. The Wizengamot Administration Services desk was on the second floor, so he took the lift down. A plump witch rode the lift with him. He studied her discreetly, but she seemed too distracted by the papers in her arms to notice him. She got off on the third floor and then Harry was alone again.

The Wizengamot Administration Services office had several desk—some to deal with court cases and others for legal paperwork. Harry headed to the desk with a sign that said LORDSHIP SERVICES. The wizard behind the desk was far more attentive than the last clerk, though only slightly older. He looked Harry up and down, obviously noticing the Lord ring along with the Heir ring Harry wore.

"Greetings," Harry said. "I wish to register my lordship and claim my seat upon the Wizengamot."

"Of course, Lord Peverell," the wizard said. "I'll just need to verify your ring's signature." He reached below the desk and pulled out a small clay tower, which he placed on the desk in front of Harry. "If you would just press it gently onto the surface, Lord Peverell."

Harry made a gentle fist and pressed the crest of his Lord ring into the small tower. The clay sank in. Harry pulled back but the imprint of the Peverell crest remained. It glowed briefly with a white light before fading.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Lord Peverell." The clerk put the clay tower away and then handed Harry a couple scrolls of paperwork. "If you would simply fill out the necessary information, I will retrieve your Wizengamot robes."

Harry nodded and grabbed a quill from the desk. He dipped it in a half-empty inkwell before writing his partial name, Harrigan Peverell, and then his true age, thirty-three. The scroll would glow red if anything he put on it was falsified, so he couldn't put down being in his twenties like he would let most people assume. Luckily, it seemed that time travel was in his favor, or at least his magical signature was that of a thirty-three-year-old enough that the parchment didn't think he was only ten. If it had, he would have been forced to do some quick spellwork on the scroll to trick it.

The rest of the scroll asked for information about his place of residence, his average availability time for Wizengamot sessions, and tedious things of that nature. By the time he had it filled out, the clerk had returned.

"Your robes, Lord Peverell," he said, handing Harry two sets of shrunken plum-colored robes. "They'll adjust to your size, of course. We ask that you please wear them to all Wizengamot sessions. While wearing them, you will be allowed through the employee entrance of the Ministry and will not be required to check your wand. However, these privileges will not occur when the court is not in session."

"Thank you," Harry said, sticking the robes in his pocket. He gave the wizard one of his perfected smiles—the one he often used on nosy reporters. It was the perfect mix of seductive and innocent that, according to Ginny, left the recipient feeling as though they'd witnessed something beautifully  _filthy_  and wanted more.

The clerk blushed pink at the tips of his ears. "Happy to be of service, sir," he murmured. "The next Wizengamot session begins April first. I will have your position filed with the department."

"You've been very helpful, ah…" Harry trailed off meaningfully.

"Berry Braithwaite, sir."

A small pureblood name that pinged at Harry's memory, though he couldn't place from where. "I just have one more question then, Berry," he said, deliberately using the man's first name. Berry gave off the kind of vibes Harry had a hard time ignoring—the vibe that said he just wanted to belong to someone or something. He was obviously competent, to get a position working with the Wizengamot at only twenty-something. But he was young still and earnest-eyed as he waited for Harry to asked his question. "What is the normal procedure for announcing the presence of a new Lord or Lady on the Wizengamot?"

"The Chief Warlock is sent a letter," Berry said promptly. "So that on the day of the new Lord or Lady's first meeting, he can announce the inclusion. It is not Ministry policy to announce anything beforehand, though  _Daily Prophet_  journalists would be informed from the first Wizengamot session and write a small piece in the paper about the newest member."

"And if I wanted my presence announced sooner?" Harry asked. He'd rather have it on his own time with his own information being portrayed for the first article. First impressions were highly important, after all.

Berry's eyes lit up. "You could request an interview with a reporter, sir."

Harry saw the hope on Berry's face and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a suggestion, Berry?"

Berry flushed, obviously realizing Harry had caught his enthusiasm. He hesitated for a moment, before saying, "My sister is a junior reporter for the  _Prophet_ , sir. It would really boost her up to be allowed an interview with the Lord of such a great house." He cleared his throat. "Of course, I can always connect you with more senior reporters if you wish, Lord Peverell."

Harry recognized the name Braithwaite now. Betty Braithwaite had been the one to interview Rita Skeeter about her book on Dumbledore. Though half of Skeeter's facts had been dead wrong, Harry and Ginny had secretly appreciated the book. Anyone slandering Dumbledore's name was good in their minds. Except, Skeeter was a plain awful reporter. She'd do better in fantasy with how much she strived to make things up.

"I'm sure Miss Braithwaite will report well on my behalf," Harry stated. "Have her send me an owl and we'll set up a time for the interview."

"Yes, Lord Peverell, thank you!" Berry's smile was bright enough to light a room.

Harry smiled indulgently back. "It was a pleasure, Berry. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

He strode out. Berry and Betty Braithwaite, he mused as he took the lift back to the atrium and Floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron, then apparated home. A young Ministry worker and a young reporter. If they could be wooed to his side, they would be beautiful additions to his Blood Blossoms. But these things took patience—something he had learned to cultivate. No one would be marked that day.

Belby popped into the foyer as Harry appeared in it. "Miss Weasley be in the parlor, my lord," he squeaked.

"Thank you for informing me," Harry said and strode quickly to where his ex-wife waited.

Ginny sat on the blood-red armchair, drinking a cup of tea. She set it down as Harry walked in and jumped to her feet. "My lord."

"Gin," Harry greeted. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Only a few minutes," Ginny assured him. "Luna's covering for me again."

"Very useful, that," Harry said. "Is there a particular reason you came, or did you simply want to visit?"

"Both, my lord," Ginny told him with a small smile. "Luna had a vision. She said, 'the pack howls to a bloody moon and only the future will calm them'. I tried to get her to clarify, but she was even more distant than usual after saying that."

"Hmm." Harry accepted his own cup of tea as Doily popped in with it. "I can think of three obvious packs."

"The werewolves," Ginny agreed. "Fenrir Greyback, Rolf Scamander, or Remus Lupin."

"All of them are possible, I suppose," Harry continued. "Fenrir, if he still serves Voldemort, might be hunting me because of my taunts over the Horcrux. Though, I would be surprised if Riddle trusted that bloodthirsty werewolf to a task of discretion."

Ginny nodded. "He's not exactly the type to be subtle."

"It's early, but possible that with everything else that changed, Rolf might find Luna sooner and be upset over my mark on her. Remus, on the other hand, might have learned of ten-year-old Harry's 'death', as it were."

"Of all of them, that's the one that fits the second part best, I think," Ginny said. "Remus wouldn't be consoled unless he knew Harry, you, are alive—which would mean telling or hinting about the time travel."

Harry nodded, and then froze as the wards flickered. He held up a hand to stop Ginny was talking and concentrated on what they were telling him. There was someone outside the wards. No, two people. They weren't attacking the wards, but they were probing them as if looking for a weak spot.

"It seems the pack, whichever one it is, has come," Harry said. "Let us greet them."

Ginny followed behind as he strode out the front door and across the path to the front gates of Peverell Manor. "How did they find you?" Ginny asked quietly as they walked. They could both see the figures on the other side of the gate, but they were too far away still to see specific features.

"A question I will be sure to ask them." Harry was concerned himself. It was too early for someone to be able to illegally trace him through the Floo Network and other than him his time at the Ministry today, he hadn't gone outside in the past few months because he'd been healing his malnourished body and fixing up the manor.

They were close enough now to be able to make out the form of their visitors. Harry watched as Remus Lupin pulled Sirius Black back slightly from the gates. They both had their wands out, but kept them lowered as Harry and Ginny approached. Both Remus and Sirius looked much nicer than he'd ever seen them before. Remus actually wore robes that fit and weren't tattered and Sirius looked healthy, with sleek hair hanging around his shoulders and robes fit for the heir to the Black family.

"Greetings," Harry said once they were close enough to talk. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He kept his tone dry, as expected to talk to two uninvited individuals knocking on his property. Inwardly, though, he drunk in the sight of the two men he'd loved like the family they were—and whom he'd lost.

"Sirius Black, heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and Remus Lupin, my consort," Sirius practically growled. "I've no time for false pleasantries. We're here for Harry."

Consort? Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny. He hadn't known… Harry frowned and looked at Remus. "Is he your mate?"

Remus blinked several times. "How do you…?"

"I know a dark creature when I feel one," Harry retorted. He let his magic loose, caressing over both of them. Remus shivered and took a half step closer to Sirius. Sirius, for his part, stepped in front of Remus and loosed his own magic.

Now that was interesting, Harry thought as they fought a silent war of magical might. In the-future-that-would-never-be, Sirius had  _never_  shown off his magic like that. It was obvious to a fully trained wizard that Sirius's aura was Dark, after all.

But now Sirius used his magic to envelop Remus, pushing Harry's aura back so that it would stop  _touching_  his consort. It was a very obviously possessive move and it showed exactly the manner of their relationship.

"Ah," Harry said. "He must be then." One of the interesting things about werewolves was that even a beta wolf, like Remus, would never let a non-werewolf be dominant in a relationship unless that non-werewolf was their mate. Remus hadn't exactly dominated Tonks, but he hadn't allowed Tonks to assume the role Sirius was playing. Of course, an alpha werewolf like Rolf wouldn't be submissive even to his mate, but Luna hadn't ever seemed to mind that.

"Take your eyes off my consort unless you want to lose them," Sirius snapped. "And tell us where my godson is."

"Why do you think he's here?" Harry asked. "I only just moved in myself, truly."

"The Ritual of Magical Blood Right," Remus said.

"Even if Dumbledore wouldn't let us raise my godson like is our right, we still kept a blood-watch on him. When the trace vanished, we used the Olde ritual to find his location. It led us here," Sirius added stiffly.

"That's a powerful ritual," Harry remarked. "Still, whatever protections Albus Dumbledore placed on the boy must have altered your findings. I have no reason to take the young Potter, even if I could."

"James Potter was my brother in magic, if not blood," Sirius said. "I know very well that he was Lord of the House of Peverell before his death. Whoever you are to take the title that should rightfully be Harry's when he comes of age–"

"This is getting no where, my lord," Ginny said, stopping Sirius's rant. "Luna said…"

"She did," Harry agreed.

"Who are you?" Sirius asked, as if just noticing Ginny.

"Ginevra Weasley," Harry introduced for her. "One of mine." He smirked at Sirius and Remus's horrified expressions. "You've given me enough information, I suppose," he said. "You'd best come in and we can clear up a couple misunderstandings."

With a wave of his hand, the gate opened. Harry turned his back on the two, hardly worried about their ability to hex him from behind. Ginny followed along. He heard the two follow him. The angry flow of Sirius's magic was enough for him to realize this Sirius wasn't quite like the one he'd known. This Sirius embraced his aura, embraced his family it seemed. Harry wasn't sure how Sirius had escaped prison, since he remembered seeing the headlines when he'd looked to see if his parents' death was the same. Sirius had been framed for betraying them and had gone to Azkaban like in the other timeline. Harry wondered if Regulus had forced the Wizengamot to give his brother an actual trial.

They reached the house and walked in to the parlor. "Doily, more tea and biscuits," Harry called.

"Do your parents know you're here?" Remus asked Ginny softly.

"Nope." Ginny popped the 'p' and giggled. Harry sighed. He could only guess what the two wizards were thinking of the girl's presence.

"Sit," Harry ordered easily. "I have a few more questions before I tell you where your godson is."

Doily popped in with the tea and snacks. Sirius and Remus ignored the tray, both glaring at Harry.

"Why haven't you forced the Ministry to give you custody of Harry as is your right?" he asked.

Sirius scowled. "I tried. Believe me, I tried, but Dumbledore has a tight hold on the Minister and he's managed to convince the public that Harry is better off in his  _secure location_." Sirius scoffed. "He'd be better off with us. I can't imagine Dumbledore gave him to anything but a staunchly Light family."

"Oh? And you're anti-Light?"

"No," Remus said. "We're not that at all. But we both have Dark magical cores and Harry does too."

"How do you know that?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It was obvious even when he was just a babe. Not that Dumbledore would let that leak to the press."

Harry was stunned about how easily Sirius and Remus were talking about the very subject they'd avoided like the plague in the other time. Whatever it was that had changed their opinion, for it must have been changed sometime during or after the war they fought in with Dumbledore, he was glad for it. He  _could_  fight on the opposite side from these two, for he would be fighting against the old coot and all who followed him, but he certainly hadn't wanted to.

"Harry wasn't raised by a Light family. He was raised by muggles."

Sirius stared. "That's… that's not right."

"No, it wasn't." Harry sighed. "Belby." His head house elf popped in. "Get me a ritual knife and a bowl from my potion stores, please."

"Yes, my lord." Belby bowed and left. A moment later, he was back with one of Harry's knives in his right hand, a bowl in the other. Harry took the knife and bowl. He absentmindedly thanked the house elf and Belby popped away.

"I'm sure you know this spell," Harry said. He cut open his thumb and let the blood drip into the bowl. With his wand he cast, " _Magica Aperire Nomine_."

His blood flashed and then rose from the bowl. In the air right above it, it began to form into words: HARRIGAN JAMES PEVERELL-POTTER.

"It can't be," Remus whispered.

"You… Harry?"

"Hey, Padfoot," Harry said. "Moony."

"But you're– aging potion?"

"Well, yes." Harry waved a hand to brush away the obvious questions. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"We've come back in time," Ginny stated. "My lord was thirty-three and the British Wizarding World was dying. I found a ritual that could send us back with the use of a willing sacrifice and we did it."

"That's unbelievable," Remus stated. "That kind of time travel would be–"

"Only possible with Olde Magic," Sirius interrupted his consort. "I know the ritual you're talking about. The record of it is in the Black library. Reggie and I came across it when we were kids."

"That's where I found it," Ginny said.

"We were living in 12 Grimmauld Place then," Harry told them. "I was the Black Lord."

"How?"

"Regulus was dead. You named me your heir and then you died." Harry clenched his jaw, still angry as he thought of the circumstances around that. "It won't happen again."

"I don't want to believe it but… you can't fake blood magic like that." Sirius stared at the bowl. "And there's no way a ten-year-old would know that."

"I'm sorry to take away the chance to watch your godson grow," Harry said. "But then, my childhood wasn't particularly happy and it didn't get much better when I came to Hogwarts." He paused. "Well, I wasn't aware of that until later—too grateful with it all, but Dumbledore manipulated me from the minute I learned of my magic and he never stopped even after his own death."

"So you came back to change it?" Remus asked.

"Dumbledore is my enemy," Harry told them. "If you can't fight against him, I will erase your memories and show you the way out. I am a Dark Lord, Sirius, Remus. I'm not a boy, not anymore, and I really am sorry you never got to see me as one, but that won't change the fact that who I am now is nothing like what I know of my father or mother."

"A Dark Lord?" Sirius murmured.

"A true Dark Lord, like what Voldemort was before he went mad with magic he shouldn't have tampered with. I seek to bring balance back to the magic of Britain, not to torture muggles simply for existing."

"Then she's your–" Remus looked at Ginny.

Ginny glanced at Harry and, at his nod, pulled down her robe collar so they could see the mark on her shoulder. "I've been his since we were seventeen."

"This is too much." Sirius stood and began to pace. "Merlin's balls, this is too much."

Harry watched Sirius and Remus. Remus looked to Sirius like a wolf to his alpha, just waiting for guidance. Sirius, though he paced, kept himself in between Remus and Harry as if he still needed to guard his mate. Then again, Harry  _was_  a Dark Lord—it wasn't an unnecessary precaution. Though he would never hurt Remus, Sirius had no idea how much he cared for the two of them, or at least for their other counterparts.

"If you stay inside my manor, you can have as much time as you need to think things over and ask me questions," Harry said. "The wards won't let you leave without telling me, so if you attempt to I will erase your memories, but otherwise you have the run of the house. There's nothing I need to hide."

"Thank you," Remus said as Sirius stopped pacing.

"Belby can show you a room," Harry said. "I just have one more question before you go lock yourselves in it."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You had a house elf growing up, Wretcher."

"That's right."

"Is he still around?"

Sirius frowned, then nodded. "Yeah. Reggie got a couple new elves for Grimmauld Place, because Wretcher never was fond of him and went a bit crazy after mum died, but he's still alive I think."

"I see. Well then, make yourselves at home." Harry stood and held out his hand for Ginny. "Time for you to go home."

"Yes, my lord," Ginny said, taking his hand.

They walked together in silence until they made it outside. "Do you think they'll join you?" Ginny asked. "That was all very abrupt."

"They were nervous the whole time," Harry said. "As they should be, after having felt the brunt of my magic, but they stayed because they were determined to find Harry. Knowing that I'm him…" Harry sighed. "They'll either be devoted, or they'll pull away. It depends on whether they can put together the thought of their ten-year-old godson with this thirty-three-year-old Dark Lord that I am."

"Luna said they'd stop howling for blood once they heard of the future."

"And they did. Doesn't mean they won't leave."

"You want them to stay."

"Of course I do." Harry looked up at the clear sky for a moment. "They're mine. They always have been. The only two adults who I could fully say  _were_  mine, when I was younger."

"I understand."

Harry shook his head. "We miscalculated with Wretcher. We asked Kreacher to reassure us that Wretcher was just as devoted to Walburga as he was, but that's not who we should have focused on."

"My lord?"

"Regulus, Gin. Regulus betrayed Voldemort because Kreacher was his best friend. Voldemort ordered Kreacher to test the defenses around the locket and when Kreacher came back, Regulus was furious."

Ginny gasped. "But if Wretcher never became his friend as well as servant… then Regulus might have never even learned of the Horcrux. Or if he did, he didn't care as much."

"Regulus never betrayed his lord. He was very smart, we know that. He could very well have come up with a way to resurrect Voldemort after his temporary defeat by baby me. A sane Tom Riddle, combined with Lucius Malfoy and Regulus Black… they've already started making waves at the Ministry."

"Not enough, but some," Ginny murmured. "And even if they were estranged, Regulus would have never let Sirius wallow in Azkaban for something he didn't do. He must have pushed for a trial."

"Didn't change much for little me, since Dumbledore wanted me compliant from living with the Dursleys, but it changed everything for Sirius and Remus."

"I still can't believe they're mates. No wonder Remus was so messed up. His mate spent twelve years in prison for, supposedly, betraying his pack members and then on top of that Sirius died not two years after getting out."

"Remus seems more comfortable in his own skin now," Harry agreed. "Who knows if it's enough for him to not be scared of his inner wolf, but it's better."

"If he's embraced the fact that he's a Dark creature, he might even have control of himself during the transformations," Ginny said. "Maybe."

"Maybe," Harry echoed. "This world is different from the one we came from, Gin, but I can't say I'm not excited to play in it."

Ginny smirked—the look strange on her nine-year-old face. "I can tell, my lord."

Harry laughed and touched her mark with his fingertips. "Go now, my little Blossom, and give Luna my thanks."

"Of course." Ginny accepted the small magical boost Harry had given her through the mark and wandlessly disapparted.

Harry headed back to the manor proper, considering his two sudden guests. It would be up to them what the next step was, but he couldn't help but hope it involved two new Blood Blossoms.


End file.
